Jordan Wax of New Mexico musical darlings Lone Piñon’s new solo album Taytsh (The Heart Deciphers) valiantly explores Yiddish language, personal narrative and global reckoning.
But at the heart of Wax’s project lies a deliberate attempt at "language reclamation," according to Wax, a process that guides his songwriting and creative expressions. The story spans back to his youth in his home state of Missouri.
"I got curious about Yiddish language and klezmer after finding some old recordings at the local music store," he recalls. “It was a time when there was an incredible revitalization of Yiddish culture happening in New York and Berlin.”
Linguistically, Taytsh is a sophisticated endeavor. Half the songs are written in the Litvish dialect, a tribute to Wax's mentor and friend Misha Limanovich.
"Whenever possible, I used fragments of speech and idioms I had in my ear from our conversations," he says.
The other half are in a secular Yiddish, klal-shprakh. Even if you don’t speak either, the album conveys a moving and beautiful sensitivity. Even the title itself is a dialectal marvel. "Taytsh" is an old Yiddish word for "meaning," "sense," or "interpretation"—a concept that goes beyond literal translation to bridge different systems of understanding. The English title captures Wax’s refined approach to language and communication.
Musically, Taytsh defies simple categorization by blending traditional music with indie rock and a modern tilt. Wax intentionally melds present-day sounds like electric guitars and organ with traditional klezmer influences.
"I wanted it to sound really contemporary," he explains.
Collaborations with accomplished Moldovan musicians like Jake Schulman and Margo Leverett, both of whom have dedicated their entire careers to the continuity of Yiddish musical tradition, enrich the sonic palette for a sound that feels simultaneously timeless and fresh.
Wax also tapped Albuquerque musician Jeremy Barnes of Neutral Milk Hotel and A Hawk and a Hacksaw to both record and mix the album as well as sit in as percussionist.
New Mexico plays a crucial role in the album's creation, too, with Wax crediting the state's unique cultural environment.
"There is a certain freedom or tolerance here in the landscape of cultural diversity compared to other places,” he says. “It's a space we inherit from many, many generations of Hispanic and Indigenous activists who maybe might not have called themselves activists, but were working to create a space that had enough diversity for them to exist. That has allowed for a creative space that might not have been possible elsewhere.”
He continues: “It’s not imported to New Mexico; it's entirely learned in New Mexico.”
The album's context is stark: Prior to the Holocaust, approximately 13 million people spoke Yiddish. Today, roughly 600,000 speakers remain—a mere 4-5% of the previous population. Moreover, many contemporary Yiddish speakers belong to ultra-conservative Hasidic communities, making secular Yiddish an increasingly rare linguistic tradition.
"Its persistence is the result of dedicated secular Yiddishist language activists,” Wax notes, “and Holocaust survivors with a deep appreciation of their native language.”
But it doesn’t stop at language preservation. Taytsh explores linguistic marginality through tracks that address contemporary issues ranging from climate change and social unrest to mental health, geopolitical tensions, modern existence, statelessness, genocide, cultural erasure and, thanksfully, potential paths toward healing. The album is radical in its refusal to romanticize, and it doesn’t shy from addressing politically charged subject matters.
Songs like "Tfiles Geshem (Prayers for Rain)" critique systemic failures, set against the dystopian backdrop of the American Southwest, while "Keler fun Ash (Voices of Ash)" reflects on the ongoing violence in Israel/Palestine and the realities of conflict and displacement. Here, Wax harnesses the depth of his heritage to address not just the political implications but the emotional weight of such narratives. The song "Makht (Power)" channels "Yiddish rage at the way capitalism shapes and commodifies the struggle for cultural continuity," Wax says, while a track like "Der Sof (The End)" exemplifies the approach by imagining an apocalyptic scenario where nature reclaims itself from human chaos.
Wax does more than help to preserve a language. He demonstrates how Yiddish is a living, evolving mode of expression capable of articulating the most nuanced contemporary experiences. This isn't background music—this is an urgent, beautiful document of survival.
You can pick up Taytsh (The Heart Deciphers) at Lost Padre Records (131 B Water St., (505) 310-6389)